Cursed by a Fortune Part 46

"Hah!" came in a deep low sigh, as if of relief, and Kate turned quickly round in surprise, just catching sight of the face with the handkerchief bound round it that she had seen before.

It was drawn back into one of the rooms instantly, and Kate turned her questioning eyes directly upon the housekeeper.

"It's only Becky, ma'am--my gal. She's been following us about to peep at you all the time. I did keep shaking my head at her, but she would come."

"Is she unwell--face-ache?" asked Kate.

"Well, no, ma'am, not now. She did have it very bad a year ago, but it got better, and she will keep tied up still for fear it should come back. She says it would drive her mad if it did; and if I make her leave off she does nothing but mope and cry, so I let her keep on.

She's a poor nervous sort of girl, and she has never been right since she lost the milkman."

"Lost the milkman?" said Kate, wonderingly.

"He went and married someone else, ma am, as had money to set him up in business. Females has a deal to put up with in this life, as well I know. Then you won't go and see the little lib'ry to-day, ma'am?"

"No, not to-day," said Kate, with an involuntary s.h.i.+ver which made the woman look at her curiously, and the deep sigh of relief came again from the neighbouring room.

"Cold, ma'am?"

"Yes--no. A little nervous and upset with travelling," said Kate; and she went down at once to the library, took a chair at the old-fas.h.i.+oned morocco-covered table, glanced round at the well-filled bookcases, and the solid rich air of comfort, with the glowing fire and softened gaslight brightening the place, and taking paper stamped with the address she began to write rapidly, explaining everything to her old maid, pleading the urgency of her position for excuse in leaving as she had, and begging that "dear old nurse" would join her at once.

She paused from time to time to look round, for the silence of the place oppressed her; and in her nervous anxious state, suffering as she was from the feeling that she had done wrong, there were moments when she could hardly refrain from tears.

But she finished her long, affectionate letter and directed it, turning round to sit gazing into the fire for a few minutes, hesitating as to whether she should do something that was in her mind.

There seemed to be no reason why she should not write to Jennie Leigh, but at the same time there was a something undefined and strange which held her back from communication; but at last decision had its way, and feeling firmer, she turned to the table once more and began to write another letter.

"Why should I have hesitated?" she said, softly; "I'm sure she likes me very much, and she will think it so very strange if I do not write."

But somehow there was a slight deepening of tint in her cheeks, and a faint sensation of glow as she wrote on, her letter being unconsciously couched in very affectionate terms; while when she had concluded and read it over she found that she had been far more explanatory than she had intended, entering fully into her feelings, and the horror and shame she had felt on discovering the way in which her cousin had been thrown with her, detailing his behaviour; and finally, in full, the scene in which Mr Garstang had protected her and spoken out, to the unveiling of the family plans.

"Pray don't think that I have acted foolishly, dear Jenny," she said in a postscript. "It may seem unmaidenly and strange, but I was driven to act as I did. I dared not stay; and beside being in some way a relative, Mr Garstang is so fatherly and kind that I have felt quite safe and at rest. Pray write to me soon. I shall be so glad to hear, for I fear that I shall be rather lonely; and tell your brother how grateful I am to him for his attention to me. I am much better and stronger now, thanks to him."

The glow in her cheeks was a little deeper here, and she paused with the intention of re-writing the letter and omitting all allusion to Doctor Leigh, but she felt that it would seem ungrateful to one to whose skill she owed so much; and in spite of a sensation of nervous shrinking, the desire to let him see she was grateful was very strong.

So the letter was finished and directed.

But still she hesitated, and twice over her hand was stretched out to take and destroy the missive, while her brain grew troubled and confused.

"I can't think," she said to herself at last with a sigh; "my brain seems weary and confused;" and then she started from her chair in alarm, for Garstang was standing in the room, the thick curtains and soft carpet having deadened his approach; and in fact, he had been there just within the heavy portiere watching her for some minutes.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

Pages 172 and 173, the first two pages of Chapter XXVI, are missing from the scan. We will continue to try to find what was upon them.

the best way, but it was the best way that offered, was it not?"

"Of course; yes," she said eagerly.

"Yes, decidedly it was," he said, still speaking in the same quiet, thoughtful way. "You set me thinking, too, my dear, whether I have done right by you in bringing you here. Yes," he said, turning upon her sharply, "I am sure I have, if I treat it as a temporary asylum. Yes, it is right, my child: but perhaps we ought to set to at once--if you feel equal to it, and now that we have time and no fear of interruption--and go over what distant relations or what friends you have, and invite the most suitable, that is to say, the one you would prefer--always supposing this individual possesses the firmness to protect you. Then he or she shall be sent for, and you shall go there."

"I do not wish to be ungrateful to you, Mr Garstang."

"You ungrateful! It isn't in your nature, my dear. But what do you think of my suggestion?"

"I think it is right, and what I should do," she replied.

"Very well then, you shall do it, my dear child; but you cannot, of course, do it to-night. It is a very important step, and you must choose deliberately, and after due and careful thought. In the meantime, Great Ormond Street is your temporary resting-place, where you are quite safe, and can make your plans in peace. As for me, I am your elderly relative, and we, I mean Mrs Plant and I, are delighted to have the monotony of the place relieved by your coming. Now, is this right?--does it set your little fluttering heart at rest?"

"Yes, thank you, Mr Garstang. I--I am greatly relieved."

"Very well then, let us set all 'the cares that infest the day,' as the poet has it, aside, and have a calm, restful evening. You need it, and I must confess that I do not feel in my customary fettle, as the country folk call it. Why, you look better already. I see how it is. Your mind is more at ease."

She smiled.

"That's right; and by the way, man-like I did not think of it till I reached my office to see some letters. I did tell Mrs Plant to try and make everything right for you here, but it never occurred to me that a lady is not like a man."

She looked at him wonderingly.

"I mean that a man can get along with a clean collar, a tooth-brush, and a pocket-comb, while a lady--"

He stopped and smiled.

"Now, look here, my child," he said, "I will leave you for a few minutes while you ring and have up Mrs Plant. You can give her what instructions you like about immediate necessities, and they can be fetched while we are at dinner. Other things you can obtain at leisure yourself."

"Thank you, Mr Garstang," said Kate, with the look of confidence in her eyes increasing, as she rose from her seat and laid her hands in his.

"No, no, please don't," he said, with a pleasant smile, as he gently returned the pressure of her hands, and then dropped them. "Let's see, dinner in half an hour." He looked at his watch. "Don't think me a gourmet, please, because I think a good deal of my dinner; for I work very hard, and I find that I must eat. There, I'll leave you for a bit."

He laid his book on the table, nodded and smiled, and walked out of the room, while with the tears rising to her eyes Kate stood gazing after him, feeling that the cloud hanging over her was lightening, and that she was going to find rest.

She rang, and Sarah Plant appeared with her head on one side, looking more withered than ever, and to her was explained the needs of the moment.

"Yes, ma'am," said the woman, plaintively; "of course I'll go, only there's the dinner, and if I wait till afterwards the shops will be shut up. I don't think you or master would like Becky to wait table with her face tied up, and if I make her take the handkerchief off she'll go into shrieking hysterics, and that will be worse. And then--would you mind looking out, ma'am?"

She walked slowly across to the window, and drew aside one of the heavy curtains.

Kate followed her, looked, and turned to the woman.

"Draw up the blind," she said.

There was a feeble smile, and a shake of the head.

"It is up, ma'am, and it's been like that all day--black as pitch.

Plagues of Ejup couldn't have been worse."

"Oh, it is impossible for you to go," said Kate, quickly. "What am I to do?"

"Well, ma'am, if you wouldn't mind, I think I could tell you. You see, master come to this place when Mr Jenour died, and there hasn't been a thing taken away since. It's just as it used to be when Mrs Jenour was alive, years before. There's drawers and drawers and wardrobes full of everything a lady can want; and there's never a week goes by that I don't spend hours in going over and folding and airing, and I spend s.h.i.+llings and s.h.i.+llings every year in lavender. So if you wouldn't mind--"